


Momma Said There Would Be Days Like This...

by orphan_account



Category: Glee
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-16
Updated: 2012-02-16
Packaged: 2017-10-31 06:57:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/341216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As a mom, I think you try to do the right thing more often than not and this is just an outtake from what I think happened after 3x13.  Spoilers for that episode, obv.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Momma Said There Would Be Days Like This...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jules1278](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jules1278/gifts).



> For Jules: Who is the Best. Thing. Ever! <3!

”Mom, maybe you can talk to him. We tried talking to him, Kurt and Me, and he just sits there,” Finn said.

“We tried chocolate, ice cream, girl scout cookies, everything,” Kurt chimed in.

Carole glanced over her shoulder from the kitchen sink at both of her boys. Two years ago, you couldn’t have told her that they’d be working together the way they were now and made it believable but here they were pleading Sam’s case in stereo.

“He’s just so _sad_ ,” Finn said.

“Seriously, Carole, he looks like a golden retriever that...” Kurt trailed off, waving his hands around. 

“I’ll see what I can do,” she said. 

The boys both thanked her and with quiet conversation about the upcoming regionals, they left the kitchen. Wiping her hands off on the dishtowel that was threaded through her belt loop, Carole grabbed a Sun Drop out of the fridge and walked downstairs. Food and drink - except for water - were contraband in the boys’ rooms and Sam, bless him, was a rule follower if ever there was one. So, he’d recognize the offering for what it was.

Her feet padded softly on the carpeted steps and she thought about her adoptive son. She’d talked to Mary Evans at least once a week about her son and she’d grown to appreciate the quiet young man who was occupying their guest room. He calmed Kurt when their flamboyant child got on one of his tangents and he helped Finn focus on the mammoth stack of college aps that had required them to stay up late. He also strummed a guitar and asked her opinion about lyrics. He snuck cookies when he thought she wasn’t looking and he always washed his hands after using the restroom. And come next Monday he was getting a job in Burt’s shop. 

His momma has raised him right, he told her once. Carole couldn’t agree more. 

He fit in neatly in their home and it was just about time he stopped acting like a guest, she thought. She rapped twice on the door, sharply.

“Guys, I don’t want any cookies, ice cream, and/or hugs. Thanks.”

“It’s Carole, Sam.”

“Oh, sorry,” he said. She could hear him fumbling around as he opened the door. “Sorry.”

She held out the Sun Drop and his face went bashful and sweet by turns.

“Thanks, Carole.”

“You’re welcome. Can I come in?”

“Sure, sure.” He danced back and she walked in. The room was tidy as a pin and she sighed. Yeah, it was time for what her granny called a ‘Come to Jesus’.

She sat down on a hard wooden chair that Kurt had talked her into when she had redecorated this room. Sam handed over a decorative pillow from the bed and she smiled.

“That chair hurts my...you know,” Sam said, blushing.

“You can say ass, Sam. My ears won’t fall off.”

He chuckled under his breath.

“My mom doesn’t really let me talk like that.”

“Well, sometimes boys will be boys and I’m not stupid enough to think that my boys don’t cuss. That includes you, mister.”

He blushed again and looked down at his hands.

“Kurt did swear a blue streak last week when he burned himself on that flat iron.”

“See? Perfect.” She adjusted the pillow under her and then tucked a leg under. “Flat iron?”

“Don’t ask. It’s part of his nightly ritual.”

“He uses more product than I do.”

Sam chuckled.

She smiled at him.

“The boys are worried about you, Sam. They asked me to come and talk to you.”

“There’s no reason to worry. I’m keeping my room clean and working for Burt starting on Monday and my grades are fine. I call Mom and Dad once a week, too. And, I even -”

“Sam, that’s not what I came down here about,” she interrupted. 

“What?”

“I already knew that you were a good kid, song choices aside.”

Sam quirked an eyebrow in question. 

“Bieber, Sam, really? Bieber?”

Sam chuckled again.

“As I was saying, I already knew what a great kid you were from what Finn and Kurt both had told me about you before the move and when Finn called me on the way home from Kentucky, I didn’t have a problem saying yes.”

“Thanks a lot for that.”

“Don’t thank me. I don’t want your thanks. What I do want is you to feel like you belong here with us, with our family.”

“I do,” Sam said. His fingers nervously worried the edge of a pillowcase. Carole moved over and sat on the foot of the bed. 

“I don’t really think you do, Sam. I think you pick up your room and are respectful and tidy because you think you’re a guest in our home.”

He opened his mouth to speak and Carole watched as he struggled with words that weren’t coming.

“I know things were pretty damned tough for you and your family. Part of me is guessing you’re still dealing with that. Your mom is worried about that a lot.”

“You guys talk?” His baby blues peeked out from under his blonde hair, reminding her of a three year old caught with something contraband.

“Oh, honey, of course we talk. Did you think your mom and dad would let you run off for your senior year and not talk to the people taking care of you?”

“I - I didn’t really...think about it.”

“Well, we do. Your mom worries that you’re not enough of a kid still. And honestly, Sam, so do I. Seriously, no teenager is this tidy.”

“Kurt is.”

“Kurt has OCD. We tried to give him pills but he wouldn’t take them because he said they clashed with all of his outfits.”

“Sounds like him,” Sam mumbled. 

“Finn told me that you’re sad and so did Kurt.” Carole leaned forward and put her hand over Sam’s. “You can tell me why or not. But, if there’s something I can do, I would like to help.”

“I’m fine, really, Carole. Just a crappy day at school.”

“I’m not your mom and I’m not trying to be her, but that’s a lie.”

She could feel his hand tense up under hers and she knew she had about ten seconds before he was either crying or yelling. Knowing Sam, she’d bet on tears. 

“I just...I just...”

“Is it about a girl?”

“Yeah,” he said, sighing deeply on the last of the word. “Yeah, it is.”

“Is it Mercedes?”

“Yeah,” he answered again a little more broken than before.

“What happened?”

“We talked and it was Valentine’s day and I gave her this stupid wiseman valentine’s thing and...and...”

His knuckles were a stark white as she gently pried them one by one from the pillow and tugged.

“Come here, Sam.” 

His arms squeezed around her middle and she tucked his head onto her shoulder. She rubbed his back as he babbled about a song, glee club, Shane, and Mercedes in a red dress. It made little sense but she knew it was his heartache coming out and she could listen as long as he needed. 

She leaned her head on top of his and kept making quiet “hmms” and noises every now and again as he kept on. When she saw Burt peek his head in the room, she shook hers and he nodded and backed out.

She’d fill him in later. Knowing Burt, he would take Sam out for ice cream (the man had a sweet tooth a mile wide) and give him a talk about girls. 

“I think I got snot all over your shirt,” Sam croaked out. His voice was broke and when he pulled back, his eyes were blood-shot red. 

“Aww, baby,” she said and hugged him again. “Why don’t you lay down and I’ll fix you some supper and have Kurt bring it down.”

“Not Kurt.”

“Okay. You got it, kiddo. How ‘bout Burt?”

“Okay, okay. I’m really...”

“Tired?”

She stood as he lay back against the pillows. Grabbing the afghan from the foot of the bed, she waited as Sam kicked his shoes off onto the floor with two muted thuds, and spread the blanket over him. He rolled, tucking a hand under his head, and Carole pushed his bangs back off his forehead.

“Get some rest, okay?”

“I will,” he mumbled, already worn out and bone tired and well on his way towards an epic nap. She’d send down some ibuprofen for him with the soup. He’d need it for the crying jag he just had. 

She turned off the light and looked back at him. She’d call Mary tonight and let her know what was going on. He’d want to hear from his mom, too. It’d help whatever had happened today. One thing she knew about her newest boy was that he bruised easy but kept right on truckin’. Yup, that was her Sam.

She walked up the stairs thinking about making him some tomato soup and grilled cheese cut into little triangles. Finn always liked that. So did Kurt, even if he never admitted it. 

_Hell, that sounded pretty good. Wonder if there’s enough for all of us?_


End file.
